Forgotten Future
by Libratine
Summary: Due to unknown circumstances, Draco Malfoy ends up in a situation he never would have thought possible.


**AN:** My first attempt to write Harry Potter, and the first fic I've written in years! Suddenly, inspiration just strikes. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Do not own anything (unfortunately). All these marvelous characters are entirely the property of JK Rowling...

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Fuck. His head was pounding and his mind felt fuzzy – he didn't want to open his eyes and look at the world, but the fevered voices around him prevented him from going back to sleep.

"But will he be alright?" He recognized the female voice, but couldn't quite place it. Really, the throbbing in his head was getting worse by second.

"I'm sorry miss, but it's impossible to say anything yet. His situation is highly unusual."

 _His_ … were they talking about him? He desperately wanted to open his eyes and get a hold of the situation, but his body refused to cooperate. He tried to remember what could possible have happened to him, but his headache made it impossible to think. The noises around him intensified, especially the shrill of the female - who was berating the poor man for his answer – was impossible to block out.

He groaned. If opening his eyes was an impossible feat, at least he could let them know he was awake.

"Draco?" A hand touched his cheek and the female voice was suddenly a lot closer. "Draco?" she repeated in an agitated whisper. "Can you hear me?"

He groaned again. Of course he could hear her, she was bloody well speaking right into his ear!

"Draco…" that voice he knew. What the fuck was his mother doing here? What the hell had happened to him?

"Just take your time," the lady from earlier softly whispered, her breath tickling his ear. "You're at St Mungo's, but don't worry you're physically fine."

He felt a hand slip into his – a hand that was clammy from sweat. He tried to articulate a sentence, but the words wouldn't form and all that came out was a few growling noises. He tried again without success, until he finally managed to stammer a broken, "Mm..other?"

His other hand was suddenly engulfed in two hands, which he guessed belonged to his mother. "Draco? Darling?" He could hear the worry in her voice, and – if he wasn't mistaken – it sounded like she had cried. But surely that could not be the case? Narcissa Malfoy never cried. "Don't stress yourself. While you're physically fine, your head took to a hit."

Well that explained the splitting headache.

Mrs. Malfoy continued, "We found you yesterday… unresponsive", she added, "in front of the gates. You scarred us quite a bit," she sniffled.

Unresponsive? What did she mean _unresponsive_? He tried to make sense of his thoughts, but everything was a jumble. And _us_? Who could she possible referrer to? His father still had eight years left in Azkaban, and last time he checked Pansy was still living in Paris. Though he didn't want to admit it, friends were few and far in-between.

"We were so worried." The unidentified female whispered, her hand stroking his. Who the fuck was she? He hadn't been seeing anyone, since he had broken up with Pansy. And while he couldn't pinpoint the voice, he knew it wasn't her. What the fuck was going on?

"Mr. Malfoy, if you can hear me, please nod," a man – whom he assumed to be the healer – said. Draco nodded. "Just keep your eyes closed until you feel comfortable enough to open them. As your mother said, we do not know what circumstances led to your predicament, but all your vitals are fine. Your head, however, did provide some rather odd signals when we tried to determine your condition. Does it feel heavy or do you have a headache?"

He nodded again. Headache couldn't even describe it; it felt like the worst hangover in the history of hangovers coupled with something equally horrendous that he couldn't quite think of in the moment due to the feeling of his skull splitting into two.

"Okay, I'll give you a potion now that should clear up your head, but please sip it slowly. Since we do not know the cause of your current state, we have to proceed with caution."

He tried to grab the glass, but since he had no clue where it was, he merely grasped around in the open air.

"Here," again the female in the room spoke up. He felt the glass at his lips and recognized that she was trying to help him. Perhaps she was a nurse? He swallowed a gulp, followed by some more. Immediately he felt the effect and he had to pace himself to no gulp down the entire thing. "Easy there," the female said in what he interpreted as a teasing voice. "I know you are not the most patience of men, but please go slow."

He slowed down… slightly.

"Is it helping?" The healer inquired.

He nodded. It was – and surprisingly fast. Already the fuzzy and blurred state of his mind was clearing up. His thoughts became more substantial. He tried to open his eyes, but they still refused to cooperate. Fuck this was agitating. What the hell happened to him?

He drank the remainder of the potion, took a deep breath and tried again. Finally, after a few minutes, and a herculean effort on his point, his eyes fluttered open.

However, he was not prepared for the sight.

"… Granger?!" While he had expected his mother's fond smile, he had definitely not expected his former school nemesis to gaze at him with a wobbly smile and unshed tears in her eyes. What. The. Fuck?

"Draco," she smiled as a few tears reluctantly escaped the corner of her eyes.

"GRANGER?!" He looked confused to his mother, then back again at Granger, and the back to his mother. Their smiles slowly turned to frowns.

"Draco?" Granger whispered. "Are you okay?"

Okay? OKAY? Of course, he wasn't okay. What the fuck was the stupid little know-it-all doing by his bedside. And why the hell was his mother allowing it?

The door abruptly opened. "Is he entirely awake? I came as soon as I heard!" The man proclaimed.

"Father?!" Draco realized that he had to be asleep, or drugged, or maybe he was in a magical induced coma. His father was in Azkaban. He had checked the progression of his father imprisonment five days ago; twelve years left, which could be reduced to ten years if his father's behavior remained exemplary.

Lucius smiled. He actually smiled at him. "You're up!"

"But…" Draco looked between all of them. "But... You're in Azkaban!" He finally declared, staring at his father in disbelief.

"What are you talking about, Draco?" Granger asked bewildered.

He stared at her. Why did she keep calling him Draco? And his parents just stood there? They were staring at him like there was something wrong with _him_ , when _Granger_ was sitting right there, on his fucking bedside!

"Your father was released two years ago. His penalty was reduced to ten years due to excellent behavior," she stared at him disbelief. "Don't you remember?"

His mind was blank. Remember? No of course he didn't remember, because that was impossible. That would mean he had traveled to the future. Impossible, inconceivable, implausible… and all those other words beginning with an I. She had lost her marbles; there could be no other explanation.

However, when he looked around, his parents and the healer did not stare at Granger, they stared at him, awaiting his answer. And they looked – dared he say it – they looked fearful.

"Is this a joke?" He finally asked. "Is this some kind of revenge for my behavior in school?" He glared at he brunette sitting on his bed. "Are you trying to get me to break down but flaunting my father in my face?" His voice was rising, but he didn't care. What were they playing at? He withdrew his hand from her grasp without noticing the hurt and shocked look on her face. "ANSWER ME, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF…"

"DRACO!" His mother's shocked voice interrupted him. "What are you _doing_?" she sounded distressed, but he couldn't understand why. He finally noticed Granger's grief stricken face. Her eyes were staring at him in silent anguish and he felt a ridiculous sense of what resembled guilt… but that couldn't be true. Perhaps it was an adverse side effect of the headache potion. Even his father appeared to be distraught about his outburst.

He opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by the healer. "Mister Malfoy, humor me for at bit, what year is it?"

He glared at the healer. What kind of stupid question was that? Could he not see that there were bigger issues here? "My name is Draco Malfoy, the year is 2000, I just began my internship as curse breaker, I live in Malfoy Manor, my mother is under house arrest and my father is in Azkaban!" He spat.

" _No_ …" He was surprised to see Granger's face turn completely white. It looked as if all the blood in her head had vanished in a mere second. "No," she repeated more firmly. "This cannot be happening. This is… NO!" She was panicking. Why the hell was she panicking?

"What the fuck are you on about Granger?"

"Darling," he turned to his mother. His dignified mother, who never cried, was spotting unshed tears in her eyes. As he looked at her, it suddenly occurred to him that she looked much older. Maybe it was his health scare that had taken a toll on her. Her voice was shaking, "it is not… What I mean to say is…" A tear rolled down her cheek – an actual tear.

Now he became worried.

"Draco," Granger injected, "it is 2010. You're father has been out of Azkaban for two years, you mother's house arrest ended nine years ago, and you don't have an internship as curse breaker, you _are_ a curse breaker. And…" she halted in her sentence to look around but no one wanted to interrupt her. "And…" Her eyes were tearing up again.

His mother came to her help, "what Hermione means to say is that you don't live in Malfoy Manor anymore. You live in a flat in London… with your fiancé."

He gaped at the two women in front of him. Though the words were English, they were unintelligible to him. It could have been a sentence or it could have been random words strung together – either way it was incomprehensible. He started to laugh, a desperate kind of sound that would fit better at the psychiatric ward. "Impossible," he finally managed to get out. "It cannot be 2010 that would mean that I have lost ten years worth of memories." He scoffed, "that simply cannot be. Is that why you brought Granger here? As some kind of sick joke to deceive into thinking that we are somewhat friends in the future?" He waited for them to yell surprise or for him to wake up or at least for someone to interrupt the awkward silence– anything really. However, their gazes remained focused on him, and the heart wrenching sadness did not leave their eyes.

He tried to wrap his head around the new information. 2010… fiancé… flat… His mother called Granger by her name... 2010. Fucking 2010?! And a fiancé, really? Fuck.

"Fiancé?" He finally muttered in incredulity. " _Hermione_?" He repeated mockingly glaring at his mother, because he couldn't for the life of him figure out how Granger played into all of this.

Suddenly dread filled him, as he realized what he was actually saying; his mother called Granger for _Hermione._ The only reason he could think of would be… no...no... NO! He wiped his head around to stare at his father. It couldn't possible be what he thought. The thought alone was preposterous. But his father just looked disturbed at _him_ , like there was something wrong with _him_. He turned to his mother again, but she too was looking at him with disbelief.

"Granger?" he asked incredulous, "Don't tell me I'm engaged to fucking GRANGER?"


End file.
